A yearly love affair

I was walking through Princeton today. Princeton in the fall. The grass is still green, but the burnt leaves fall around old stone buildings. Students walk, sit, read, and talk in the dappled light. 

All of autumn's light is indirect. That is one of the reasons I love the fall. The light is never above. It's always to the side. Always in your eyes. I don't mind the blinding ginger light of autumn. It doesn't burn the way the harsh summer sun does, or the cold sun of spring. in the winter I am desperate for the sun's heat, but in the fall it's a companion. I don't need it's warmth, but I welcome it.

Fall is a time of long pants, sweaters, light jackets, and a thin scarf. It's time to air out all of your browns, oranges, deep reds, and golds. Hiking boots, knee socks. Autumn is for slow, thoughtful walks, and deep, calm reflections.  

The smells of autumn are distinct. Crisp, and clean. The natural decay of leaves. Cinnamon and nutmeg. The fresh chill of a fall morning, and the inviting warmth when you come indoors. 

Just when the world is starting to go dormant, it comes alive with color. The handful of green shades breaks into a myriad of warm, fiery hues, like a light show sending the world to sleep with a flourish; like the firework finale right before the palpable silence that follows, as you solemnly watch the ash fall to the ground.